


Terminator

by Huiniao



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU, Action, Gen, Humor, Independent Harry Potter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-25
Updated: 2018-02-03
Packaged: 2018-08-24 15:19:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8377102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Huiniao/pseuds/Huiniao
Summary: When the author was little, the sky was blue and the 5th book wasn’t published yet, he wanted Harry to stop fooling around, transfigure a bagel in a Tommy-gun and throw a Brazilian carnival for everyone.Terminator is an iconic fic often refered to as the best in the fandom.





	1. First Year

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Терминатор](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/237364) by Больной Ублюдок. 



1.1

Boy Borya deceived

Brother, grandmother and uncles -

Borya has now become a manul,

Borya catches sparrows.

(NOM, "Lunch break").

“What I want to be, when I grow up”

Essay by H.Potter, St. Grogory’s primary school 5th grade student.

A Little boy in stupid round glasses and hand-me-down closes sighed under his breath and chewed on the tip of his pen. Under the ceiling, an autumn fly, mad with anticipation of imminent demise was zipping around, muffling with it’s buzz the rhythmed hum of the daylight lamps.

The boy followed fly's movement from the class door to the closest to the blackboard window, then to the teacher’s desk and to a dust bin. Having banked a steep turn over the dust bin, it rocketed up, whirled over Pierse Polkiss’ brainless scull, then broke hard right, up to the ceiling again and flicked out of sight. The boy sighed again, eyed a sheet of paper in front of him, his name signed in the top corner, chewed on his pen a bit, and wrote:

“When I grow up, I’ll be big and strong, like Terminator. I’ll have a big motorcycle, a big gun and huge muscles. Terminator isn’t much for small talk, he is cool. He doesn’t have to go to some boring job every day and come back home to some boring chick looking like a boiled fish. Instead, he takes out his gun and have some fun. When he do so, everything around is blowing up and girls are squealling. I like to watch explosions, though I've only seen them on screen yet, and I sometimes think that killing might be fun, if you put your heart in it. I already decided that I’m going to poison uncle Vernon with acetone or toilet cleaning gel, as for aunt Petunia, I’ll probably beat her with a hot pan until her stupid neck is broken. I haven't quite decided what I will do to my cousin Dudley, but maybe I gonna need a saw, a hammer, and nails, I've just found a full box of them. I’ll drive nails in his stomach and laugh loudly. And then I’ll cut up their bodies, put in the waste sacks and throw them in the trash. ”

Harry looked up and squinting short-sightedly. Then he looked at the clock above the blackboard. Fifteen minutes left until the end of the class. The fly, finally at peace with itself and the world, was sitting on Samantha Duglas’ pencil box and rubbing its chelas. He squinted, making the picture to blur a bit, so he could imagine now that the fly also was writing something – a will, or maybe, a fly’s version of Magna Charta Libertatum.

Harry rumpled up a sheet with an essay and put it in his pocket; then he took a new sheet and wrote tracing out each letter painstakingly:

“What I want to be, when I grow up

Essay by H.Potter, St. Grogory’s primary school 5th grade student.

When I grow up, I want to be a scientist and invent a cure for cancer, so people won't have to suffer any more”.


	2. 1.2

Hail, the grate bleck Ivel!

You, my 'hall life's work!

I'll put the razor in gum

And feed it to children!

(Inffernal Soton, "Ivel")

Hogwarts evoked mixed feelings.

Of course, on one hand, it was cool. Enormous castle, a football match could be hosted in Big Hall, talking pictures, ghosts, and all this atmosphere of magic going around... well, you know.

On the other hand, there wasn't even electricity there. Nothing good can be expected from a place without electricity, and Harry was ready to find out that warm lantrines weren’t included in the castle construction. Fortunately, his concerns were idle, but nevertheless, Harry was a bit stiff and on edge.

"Well, well, let me see what we have here", - said the Sorting Hat, when Harry's turn came to put it on. - "Oh my", - it added, having examined closely Potter's thoughts.

"Not Slytherin", - telepathically passed Harry, trying his best to make it as menacing as he could.

"Shame I can't sort you strait into Azkaban", - answered the Hat. - "And why not Slytherin? You will fit perfectly in this serpenta... hm, this noble house fits you perfectly, my dear child".

"Not Slytherin, I said!" - Mentally snarled "dear child".

"Look, it is traditionally considered to be a house of dark wizards", - the Hat continued to persuade him.- "Don’t you want to become a dark wizard? It is, how you, young people say it... It is so cool!"

Harry thought about that one, who mustn't be named, who he found out so much about recently and already labeled as a complete looser. How can someone fuck up so much to be killed by a toddler? And then he thought about that pale shrimp, Malfoy, and the perspective to be in one House with him. The wish to become a dark wizard died in him completely and forever. As it read these thoughts, The Hat sighed.

“You don’t want to go there at all, do you? Oh, well… maybe there you will learn to channel your aggressive urges in a socially acceptable way...”

\- Gryffindor!

 


	3. 1.3

I work in a pharmacy,

I sell medicines of all kinds.

From diarrhea, constipation

And from whiskey dick.

(Alexander Laertsky, "Pharmacy")

Despite his skeptic attitude towards magic, Harry couldn't disregard its advantages. With magic he could levitate heavy books, set girls hair on fire (he had to do it with a lighter in muggle school, which sucked because he had to operate from the close distance), curse with acne, and transfigure Dudley's sock into a Spanish boot.   
But a real eye-opener for him became Potions.  
Harry missed completely professor's dramatic speech, instead doodling on his parchment a lass with boobs so big, it contradicted every law of anatomy.  
\- Potter! - Snape addressed him suddenly. - What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of warmwood?  
\- I've no idea, - answered Harry picking his nose.  
\- You are to address me “sir”, or “professor”. - Snape snarled. - and take your finger out of your nose, have you found a silver mine there or what?  
\- Yes, sirrr, - Potter stood bolt upright now, staring him in the eyes. - And this is my nose, I will do with it as I wish.  
\- While you and your nose are in my office, kindly, observe the rules of decency, - hissed Snape, loosing patience. Then, realizing, apparently, the absurdity of what was happening, he decided to change the subject. - Well, let's try again. Where, mister Potter, would you look if I asked you to find a bezoar?   
\- I don't know, sir, - Harry answered carelessly. - By the way, professor, is it true that the best soap can be made from human fat?   
Snape choked on another sarcastic remark.  
\- Potter, are you out of your mind? - He asked. - One more stupid question, and I will make a soap out of you. Five points from Gryffindor.  
Harry shrugged nonchalantly. He didn't care a bit for bullshit like points, but he formulated another pressing question – was there a magic napalm or its equivalent? Apparently, there was no point to ask this weirdo, and he decided to leave him alone, as long as professor stayed away from him. The practical part of the lesson didn't inspire him either. He was pondering on how to turn a cure for boils into something that will cause the boils, when he heard a loud hiss as the class filled with the acrid green smoke.   
Having perched on a desk like everyone else, Harry overlooked the class from the height like a general looking at the future battlefield. Nothing escaped his attention: neither how the metal, actually, cauldron melted down into a shapeless piece, nor the black spots the potion burned out on the wooden surface of the desk, nor the terrible furuncles that covered every open area of the skin of the involuntary culprit of this calamity.   
When poor Neville was taken to the hospital wing, Harry sat down looking thoughtfully at the now empty desk. The fact that this seemingly unremarkable guy had managed so easily to do something he himself was unable to come up with made him envy. But he also thought that Longbottom can be considered a potential weapon of mass destruction – provided, of course, that today's enchanting success was not accidental.  
He also thought that he started to rather like Potions. Harry carefully copied down professor's remark that the observed effect was caused by the untimely addition of the porcupine needles, and smiled staring into space dreamily.

Professor Snape shuddered when he saw this smile.


	4. 1.4

_Doctor Frankenstein, a know-it-all,_  
_Wanted to get to the bottom of things,_  
_You are a natural scientist, your experiment,_  
_can be a success and can fail._  
(Alisa, "Doctor Frankenstein")

During one of the visits to Hagrid, somewhere between consuming rock-hard cupcakes and a small talk, Harry asked him for a mousetrap.  
\- What would you use it for? - asked bewildered gamekeeper.  
\- I want to catch a mouse, - answered Harry. - You know, I love mice. Ron has a rat, I also want one.  
Harry didn't tell what he needed mice for. Neither did he tell how during the last transfiguration class he tried to turn a mouse into a tin mug using a formula he saw in a third year's textbook (actually, according to the lesson plan, he was supposed to turn it into a china saucer). The mouse turned out to be a little bit too metal to Harry's liking. Besides, it was as large as a piglet and sported two rows of sharp crocodile's teeth. Sitting on the desk while the mouse was skipping trying to bite it's creator, its teeth clanging loudly, Harry though that maybe magic was not the ultimate solution for all problems. Sometimes, the most obvious way was the safest.  
\- Mice! - Harry was wining the same evening stumbling around the Gryffindor common room. - Mice!  
Lavender Brown sitting on the couch squealed and curled up her legs.  
\- Mice? Where? - she asked wary.  
Harry looked at her bitterly.  
\- Dunno. - He answered with sadness in his voice. - But I need mice! I want mice! Little.. gray.. warm mice with delicate paws and tiny little toes! God, I would love them dearly!  
Harry was wringing his hands desperately, then dashed to Angelina Jonson who had just entered the room.  
\- Girl! - He cried. - Sweet, kind girl! I want mice!  
\- Fuck off, you pervert, - shrugged him off Angelina.  
\- Hey, you are not going to put mice in the McGonagall's desk? - Someone asked him from behind. Harry turned around and saw one of the Weasly twins – he couldn't identify which one.  
\- Of course, no, - he answered, assuming an air of injured innocence. - This heartless women is using them as training material.  
Weasly twin stared at him distrustfully, Harry sighed but finally confessed:  
\- Actually, I'm going to perform inhuman tests on mice.  
The twin laughed and tapped him on the shoulder.  
\- I advice you to ask Hagrid to give you a mousetrap. Filch has one too, but he won't give it to you. And I hope the girl in who’s bag you will put them is worse the trouble.  
\- Hey, Ron, - Harry called when he entered the bedroom. - Wanna go see Hagrid?  
\- I will go, - answered Ron. - But Harry...  
\- What?  
\- I was going to ask you for quite some time... Put away your fucking bear traps!  
\- But Ron, - argued Harry, - this traps are guarding my chest.  
\- Maybe you didn't notice, but my chest is in the same corner. I haven't got a chance to change my socks for three days!


End file.
